Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Okay, contestants! We’ve reached the third and final round of “Name. Thaaaaat. Country!”

{applause sign lights up, and studio audience cheers accordingly}

Now, you know the drill.

{contestants nod and try to look intelligent}

The talented “Name That Country!” Players will act out a scene, and you’ll then have sixty seconds on the clock to correctly name. thaaaaat. country!

And for those of you out there, playing along at home {flashes impossibly white teeth directly at the camera}, we’re going to help you out with some clues, which will appear on your TV screens during the scene.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Of course, if you’re like most people, you probably quickly skimmed that post and then went back to whatever it is that you do when you’re not reading blogs.

However, the dedicated researchers at the Our Shiputzim Linguistic and Translation Department – who are obviously NOT like most people – were, in contrast, apparently inspired to spend the past year attempting to decipher the aforementioned models of inscrutability and unfathomability.

Well, I’m pleased to announce that the researchers, who recently released their findings, were able to identify three more categories of misspellings endemic to Israeli teenagers’ Facebook statuses:

1) Mir redden Yiddish?

This first category includes two different types of expressions:

Hebrew words which are pronounced with a pseudo-Yiddish accent. For example, טוייף - “toyf” – i.e. tov (literally, good). [Note that טוייף is used as a valediction and generally precedes the hybrid phrase, יאלה ביי (yalla, bye)…]

Monday, July 19, 2010

Last year, in a post I referred to as anantidote to the meraglim, I discussed one of the many, many things I love about our wonderful Land: namely, the fact that Israel is a Jewish country. What follows is yet another example of this amazing phenomenon:

A Tale of Two Hospitals

In the comment section to my post on Israeli maternity wards, I reported that in the States, I gave birth in a Catholic hospital and added that:

“The hospital's logo - which included a cross - appeared on the hospital gowns, and each room had a small wooden crucifix on the wall.”

Now, as some of you know, one of the Shiputzim kids was born right before Christmas.

Unsurprisingly, this meant that the entire hospital was awash in trees and holiday decorations. In addition - despite my covered hair and YZG’s unmistakable kippah – many of the nurses kept gushing about our “lovely holiday present,” and at one point, I even found myself being serenaded by a group of carolers.

Fast forward to when our first sabra was born, and I was going to have to spend Shabbat in an (Israeli) hospital.

I was somewhat apprehensive about this, but as it turned out, I needn’t have worried.

On Friday afternoon, the staff placed a large table covered with Shabbat candles right outside the maternity dining room.

At first, I wondered why they had bothered setting up that many candles. After all, a significant portion of the women on the ward didn’t appear to be outwardly observant.

But sure enough, when the time came, almost every candle was lit.

Secular, traditional, national-religious, haredi – the divisive and meaningless labels faded away, and standing side by side, the new mothers welcomed the Shabbat as one.

And then, on Friday night – just as we were sitting down to eat - one of the mothers got up and announced that if anyone was interested, she was making kiddush.

Immediately, every. single. woman in the room rose to her feet and stood in respectful silence for the duration of the kiddush. And when it was over, everyone responded with a loud, heartfelt, and awe-inspiring “Amen”.

Words can’t do justice to that incredible, only-in-Israel moment.

However, I can tell you that as I wiped away a few not-so-surreptitious tears, I looked around the room and noticed that many of the other women were similarly overcome by their emotions…

May this beautiful achdut (unity) become an everyday occurrence, and may we soon be privileged to witness the final Geulah (Redemption).

These are not your regular, everyday, run-of-the-mill chocolate chip cookies. Instead, each one has a small brownie hidden inside.

Hence their name: “Chocolate Chip Surprise Cookies.”

Here’s the recipe:

Chocolate Chip Surprise Cookies

This recipe is adapted from Bakerella’sPillow Cookies. In addition to a few minor tweaks – such as replacing the butter with oil to make the cookies parve - the kids made two major changes: (1) The cookies are one quarter the size of the original recipe. (2) Although Bakerella suggests using a mix for the brownies, the Shiputzim kids used my friend E’s easy brownie recipe.

Brownies

4 eggs

2 cups sugar

1 tsp vanilla

2/3 cup oil

¾ cup cocoa

1½ cups flour

Cookies

2/3 cup oil

1½ cups brown sugar

2 eggs plus 1 yolk

1 TBSP vanilla

2½ cups flour

2 tsp baking powder (i.e. one envelope for my Israeli readers)

½ tsp baking soda

1 package of chocolate chips

Instructions

1. First, prepare the brownies: Mix brownie ingredients together and pour into a greased 9x13 pan (or one that has been lined with baking paper). Bake at 350 degrees for 35-40 minutes or until done. Let cool.

2. Meanwhile, prepare the cookie dough: Beat the oil and sugar together. Add the eggs, yolk, and vanilla, and beat until smooth. Add the three dry ingredients, and mix through. Stir in the chocolate chips. Let the dough chill covered in the refrigerator for one hour.

3. Next, prepare the cookies: Take 1/8 of a cup of cookie dough. Form it into a ball, and then make an indentation in the middle. Gently press a ¼ inch square of brownie into the indentation. Work the dough up around the brownie, making sure that the brownie is completely covered by the cookie dough.

Forming the cookies. Not a job for the faint-hearted…

4. Finally, bake the cookies: Place each brownie-filled cookie on a baking-paper-lined cookie sheet. Bake at 350 degrees for about 14 minutes or until done. Yield: 30-35 cookies.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

When I think about summertime fun, I picture things like air-conditioning, ice cold drinks, and well-appointed swimming pools.

But most Israeli kids equate summertime fun with camping out under the most primitive of conditions – including sleeping on the ground; minimal or even no access to showers; and long, dusty hikes in the blistering heat.

In other words, the annual mud-wallowing event the annual machaneh (literally, “camp”).

Yet as much as their beloved offspring eagerly await the [dubious] pleasure of being exposed to the elements, Anglo parents are frequently unenthused about this classic Israeli rite of passage.

Their hesitation is based on the fact that the machaneh inevitably raises two burning (no pun intended) questions:

And so, as a public service, the Our Shiputzim Editorial Board has asked me to discuss the latter issue. (Like most parents, I’ve pretty much given up on the former…)

Visiting Day Protocol

I. To go or not to go:

On one hand, no parent wants his or her child to be that poor, pathetic camper who’s bored, miserable and lonely – while the other campers are busy having fun with their parents.

But on the other hand, since the machaneh is usually only two to seven days long (i.e. a far cry from the four to eight weeks of the typical American sleepover camp experience), visiting day (or visiting hour or two, as is generally the case) seems rather unnecessary and superfluous (to put it mildly).

Thus, for two-day machanot, YZG and I have told the kids that we won’t be coming. (If they can’t manage for one night without a visit from us, they’re obviously not yet ready to be going at all.)

However, when the machaneh is three or more days long, we take the “when in Rome” approach: We ask the kids to find out what most other parents are doing and then act accordingly.

Surprisingly, this policy has meant that we’ve attended relatively few visiting days over the years.

II. What to bring:

Three words - Snacks and treats.

At one memorable visiting day, at least 80% of the parents showed up with boxes of cold pizza, but cookies, Bisli, and Bamba are popular options as well.

III. Several important DOs and DON’Ts:

DON’T be shocked to discover that the physical conditions are even worse than you imagined.

DO everything you can to avoid fadichot. (This one is basically hopeless…)

DON’T be astonished to learn that your child hasn’t washed his/her face or brushed his/her teeth in four days.

DO expect to bring a bag of dirty, smelly laundry home with you…

Feel free to share your own visiting day stories and wisdom in the comment section.

“Sorry, but no. I'd rather win the military battle than the PR one given a choice between the two. The terror organizations can make PR [their] one priority because they are indifferent to loss of life - their own or others. We are not, not should we be. We must place military necessity first.”

Yet the logical fallacies and tactical and strategic absurdities inherent in the op-ed writer’s arguments aren’t the only problems with his claim.

You see, I’m no lawyer (nor do I play one in the J-Blogosphere), but I suspect that copyright issues may be involved in cases – such as this one - where life attempts to imitate art… ;-)

After all, the idea of forcing the military experts to defer to the PR guys is something straight out of one of my all-time favorite books: William Brinkley’s hysterical Don't Go Near the Water.

This wonderful, lighthearted, and hilariously funny novel focuses on a US naval PR unit based on Tulura (a fictional Pacific island) during World War II.

The unit’s commander earnestly believes that nothing is as important as PR and can’t understand why much – if not all – of the naval brass disagrees with him.

In other words, the aforementioned opinion writer has apparently run out of original ideas and has thus now resorted to out-of-print 1950’s bestsellers for inspiration…

BTW, if you’ve never read Don't Go Near the Water, I suggest that you immediately head over to your local library or preferred online sourceand get yourself a copy of this highly-recommended romantic comedy. Escapist reading at its best, it’s my vision of the ideal book for a long summer Shabbat afternoon…

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

There’s nothing more annoying than a blogger who blogs endlessly about a perceived slight or insult.

Thus, I suspect that when you saw this post’s title, many of you were [mistakenly] concerned that this would be yet another rant about a certain gan graduation which was – to my dismay - not designed for online mockery.

“Seriously, enough already with the mesibat siyum,” you probably shouted at your computer screens. “Besides, it’s not the gannenet’s fault. After all, a beautiful-yet-blogworthy-graduation is an oxymoron. It simply cannot be done…”

And so I’m here to tell you that this is not true. There’s no need to sacrifice blogworthiness when planning end-of-year celebrations.

After all, the organizers of a recent yeshiva high school graduation somehow managed to pull off this seemingly-impossible feat.

You see, although the graduation didn’t have a processional, graduation gowns (made in Israelor otherwise), a valedictorian, diplomas, or the other trappings of traditional American graduation ceremonies, it was a lovely, moving, wonderful, and fitting tribute to the yeshiva and this year’s graduating class.

And yet nevertheless, the organizers skillfully – and thoughtfully! - included two amusing elements which warmed my blogging heart:

1) The organizers had (intentionally?) neglected to tell the boys what to wear to the graduation, and thus a significant percentage initially showed up wearing regular everyday clothes.

However, when they realized that many of their friends were wearing white shirts (most likely at their parents’ prompting), the casually-dressed graduates immediately took action.

Some quickly called home and had their parents bring them something to change into. Others had hedged their bets and were thus able to put on the white shirts they had brought along “just in case.” (I believe that credit for this bit of advanced planning also goes to the parents…)

And so, by the time the festivities had begun, the majority of the graduates were appropriately and uniformly attired in white shirts…

Our Shiputzim

I started this blog as a way to document our home renovations, but B"H the work is basically finished. And so, this has developed into a typical slice-of-life blog - you know, the kind of blog that talks about our kids, food, and our lives here in Israel - albeit with an irrelevant and misleading name.

Please leave a comment or send an email to OurShiputzim at gmail dot com. The entire Our Shiputzim staff would love to hear from you!